


Bixfreed week 2016: Freak

by Anxious_Procrastinating



Series: Bixfreed Week 2016 [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: BixFreed Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Procrastinating/pseuds/Anxious_Procrastinating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Bixfreed Week ever! Give all your love to this new ship! This is for Days 5 and 6. Prompts: Past & Revenge/Redemption</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bixfreed week 2016: Freak

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! :) This is my entry for Days 5 and 6. Prompts: Past + Revenge/Redemption.  
> I hope you like this!:D  
> (Sorry if there are no spaces between the paragraphs, but my computer is having problems and is not cooperating to fix this. The italics have been troublesome enough already.)

Bickslow was acting very strange lately. His usually cheerful and energetic demeanor had been replaced by a constantly thoughtful expression and a dull look in normally bright crimson eyes.  
This behavior stuck out like a sore thumb on Bickslow and really didn't fit him, Freed thought.  
It had been a few of weeks since he had started acting like that, worrying not just the Rune mage, but the whole Raijinshuu. Whenever they said they wanted to go on a mission, he'd just say he would pass that time, that he felt tired.  
He had started not going out much anymore, while he was usually the one who had to drag Freed out of their love nest, whenever he got too engrossed in a book or paperwork.  
Freed had thought that maybe it would last just a few days, but now it had been weeks that his boyfriend had started acting like that and it was scaring him.  
His attempts at talking about what the matter was were useless though, as Bickslow just grew more distant or dismissed it at something unimportant, trying to change the topic.  
Then the nightmares started. Bickslow woke up screaming in the middle of the night, crimson eyes blazing green and the babies buzzing with energy. Then he would snap them shut and cry in Freed's chest. But he never revealed what was upsetting him.  
The trigger to all of this had been some news he had heard on the TV a few weeks earlier. Children were being kidnapped in the area close to Magnolia and the suspects all led to a family who'd worked in the circus for many generations by now, the Morpheys.  
It had brought back memories.  
_"Bickslow, you have magic!" excitedly exclaimed his father, sticking his tongue out. A four year-old Bickslow giggled in his arms, as he held him up high in the air. "This is amazing! My son has magic!"_  
_"Lothar, stop moving him around so much! He's just eaten, he will throw up everything!" chided his mother._  
_His father laughed and brought him closer to his chest, a wild grin still on his face as he looked at him. "But aren't you so proud of him?" he told his wife._  
_The woman walked closer and with a soft smile she took her son from his father's arms, cradling him in her own. "Of course I am, I've always known our baby was special"_  
_She planted a loving kiss on Bickslow's temple and the child snuggled in his mother's warm embrace, soon falling asleep._  
That was the last happy moment he remembered with his family. It had been destroyed by the magic his parents were so excited about.  
_There was a noise downstairs, followed by curses. Bickslow's father jolted awake and woke up his wife, telling her to look after their child and call the rune knights. In the meantime he would handle that._  
_Bickslow was woken up by his mom picking him in her arms. He moaned a little bit, but he was soon ready to play with his toys like there's no tomorrow, not fully understanding the situation. Only when he looked up to his mother's face and registered how labored breathing was he realized that there was something wrong._  
_"Mommy?" he asked tentatively, his voice tiny._  
_"Hey, love. It's going to be alright, ok? Mommy's here and Papa is about to come back up here"_  
_His Papa! Where was his Papa? He listened carefully and heard rustling and shouting downstairs, though he couldn't clearly make out what was being said. His mom seemed scared. He hugged her like she always did when he was the one who was scared. She stroked his back and kissed him on top of his head._  
_"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" they suddenly heard his dad shouting. And he felt fear creeping through his body. He held on her mother's neck tighter and her own grip on him tightened._  
_"It's alright. Mommy's here" she whispered soothingly, but he still was tense. The whole situation was upsetting him._  
_Then more rustling and stuff getting broken. His mother had already called the rune knights, but they weren't coming and she was worried about her husband. She had to help him._  
_"Bickslow, you stay in here, ok?" she said, gathering a smile. "Mommy is going to see what all the fuss is about. It's going to be alright"_  
_Bickslow was lowered on the ground. He still clung to his mother, not wanting to be left alone, but she delicately unclasped his hands from behind her neck. "How about we play hide and seek, huh?" she proposed, with a big grin._  
_Seeing her calmer, Bickslow's, fear eased and he let her guide him to the armoir. "Hide in here" she suggested. "Then when it's all over I'll tell Papa to come look for you. Don't worry, I won't tell him where you are" she told him with a wink and Bickslow gave him one of his big grins and nodded, eager to play._  
_"Remember to be quiet!" she warned as she closed the armoir and he giggled, slapping his hands on his mouth, trying to cover all of the sounds. "And don't get out of here, no matter what you hear!"_  
_From there he actually couldn't hear much. Only the louder noises could reach his ears._  
_"Rowna, what are you doing here?!" asked Lothar as soon as his wife reached him._  
_"Who are these guys? What do they want from Bickslow?!" she shouted hysterically, getting more worried by the second as she saw the blood trickling from her husband's temple._  
_Bickslow heard his name._  
_A filthy-looking man, dressed in an unkempt suit and reeking of alcohol, stepped forward and spoke: "You can call me Mr. Morpheys" he said with a lopsided grin that showed all of his rotten teeth. "My family has been having some monetary issues lately, I'm trying to uplift again the family business and your son would come in quite handy in our freak show"_  
_"MY BABY IS NOT A FREAK!" she screamed and Bickslow flinched. He'd heard people calling him a freak, he knew it wasn't a nice word to direct to someone. But his parents had always told him not to care when someone called him names, that those people were stupid. He tried to, but sometimes he couldn't help but think about that._  
_"Is he not?" replied calmly Mr. Morpheys. "I've seen what those eyes can do. Imagine how much success he might gain, he could be a star"_  
_"No, my son is not yours to put on display as if he were some kind of monster. Nor should be all those people you took with you" said Lothar firmly. "Go away"_  
_"I don't think you understand. You don't have an option. Hand him over and we might spare your lives" ordered the filthy man, with the same eerie calm as before._  
_"No. Go away" repeated Bickslow's father through gritted teeth._  
_Mr. Morpheys simply shrugged. "Fine. You don't cooperate, we are gonna have to take him by force". He stepped forward, towards the stairs, and immediately, Bickslow's mom moved in front of him, to protect her baby, legs and arms spread open. "Do it, guys" he ordered to his minions and the slaughter began._  
_Bickslow heard screams and cries of pain. Stuff colliding with other stuff and things shattering. He was getting scared again. He wondered if he had to go out to check, but his mother had told him to stay there no matter what. He curled up in a ball and couldn't help but let out a small whimper, that he immediately tried to mute._  
_After the screams came the hurried footsteps and he still wondered if it was his father who was coming. He really hoped so._  
_He realized he was shaking._  
_The door of the armoir was thrown open and he stared wide-eyed at the person in front of him. That wasn't his father._  
_That man was so frightening._  
_"Come here, child" he said, offering a hand. He tried to be as little intimidating as possible._  
_Bickslow just reined back, terrified. "Where are my Mommy and Papa?" he asked in a shaky voice._  
_"They're downstairs, they told me to pick you up because they wanted to talk to you"_  
_Being a child, Bickslow didn't come up with anything to protest. He didn't trust this guy much, but he was scared he might do something to him if he didn't obey. His parents were downstairs afterall, they would fix everything. He stood up and stepped out of the armoir, without taking the man's hand. He could smell a stench of cigarettes and alcohol on him. He didn't like it._  
_As he walked down the stairs he had a feeling that this wasn't going to turn out ok. The stinky man was right behind him. Going further, he spotted red. There wasn't supposed to be red._  
_As he started fidgeting, the man grabbed him from his collar and threw him across his shoulder. His fear turned to full-blown panic and he started to scream for help and call his mom and dad._  
_Nobody came though and soon enough he found out why. As the man who was holding him in place walked into the living room, he could see the sprawled, battered bodies of his parents. He started crying and bawling, tiny fists hitting the man's back as he thrashed to break free and check on them, hoping that it was just a sick prank._  
_But those dull eyes remained fixated on him, unblinking. The corpses remained unmoving, in a messy pile of butchered limbs. It was an image he would never be able to forget._  
_Bickslow was afraid that these scary guys were going to do the same to him. That mixture of emotions triggered his magic and five totems that used to be his toys sprung up to life, flying in the small room from wall to wall like bullets, firing green blasts of energy._  
_Bickslow screamed until his throat was raw, but even if the dolls had killed a few people, the guy who was holding him was only injured in his leg and managed to flee. The dolls chased them, but at a certain point, when exhaustion took its toll on his body he passed out and they fell to the ground._  
Bickslow had shuddered in front of the TV as he heard that name again and those memories flashed in front of his eyes. His cup of coffee had fallen to the floor and shattered into many tiny pieces and he was snapped out of his daze for the time being.  
In the following days and weeks though, unpleasant memories resurfaced again and he was closing himself up in a shell, detaching himself from everyone and everything, even Freed who had tried countless times to reach out to him.  
_After he woke up again, Bickslow was explained the mess he was in. He whined and tried to escape countless times, but he always got a beating that convinced him more and more that trying to run away in his current state wasn't the best option for him._  
_So he started to cooperate. At least he pretended to. He was ordered to train in acrobatics and develop a number with his magic, that could include his totems if he wanted to._  
_The babies were the only loyal companions he had in there. He didn't know whose were those souls, but they had tried to protect him on that fateful day and he would be eternally grateful. He'd kept them with him, as they had decided to follow him. They were all he had left._  
_He had no other friends there. They were all scary with those deformities a child like him could only find frightening. He tried not to be like that, to see through them, but their attitude towards him was all but friendly, so he just gave up._  
_Less than a month later he had had to perform. He was ordered to be as queer and eccentric as possible. He could feel eyes on him, scrutinizing and analizing him, watching him like they watched all the other performers, with morbid interest._  
_It crept him out, but he kept doing it. He had to if he wanted to survive._  
_His hatred towards his captors grew over the years though, as he was constantly bullied and mistreated and forced to do things he didn't want to do and had been done things he had definitely not enjoyed._  
_Many years later he deemed himself strong enough to flee._  
_He had considered to try and save the others, but they had never cared about him and he had to think for himself, he couldn't be a decent human being anymore, not with what he had in mind._  
He didn't want to drag anyone into the mess he was. The mess that was his past. He was considering to help those kids, just go berserk on the mean people, the equipments for the shows and everything and set those poor little guys free, be the hero he would have wanted to have when he was in their position.  
He had grown up now. He was stronger, he could definitely do that.  
But why was he so goddamn scared?!  
Whenever he thought about it, he sweated and his knees buckled. His heart thumped loudly in his ears and he couldn't breathe.  
He was a coward. And he felt guilty.  
So for weeks he wallowed in self-pity and self-contempt, until he decided that if he wanted to settle this, he had to act.  
Unbeknownst to everyone, he set out in the night, searching for where the circus currently was stationed, not having much trouble to find it thanks to his babies' aid. He descended into the camping and quickly checked into all the tents trying not to wake anyone up and found the children the news talked about. They were all bruised and scared, some were crying. They reminded him so much of himself.  
He escorted them all out and made the babies carry them to the guild. The Master kept it open at night and Bickslow knew they would be safe there.  
He still wasn't sure about this thing. He'd already done that in the past, but now he found himself hesitating. He'd brought with himself a tank of gasoline. This time he had to make sure that everyone died, but, most of all, that everything linked to that nightmare was destroyed.  
With shaky hands, he started to shed the liquid in every nook and cranny he spotted.  
"Well well, look who came back"  
Bickslow jolted in surprise. Fear was written all across his features as he spun around. He was almost letting go of the tank, but he tightened his grip around it, trying to remind himself that he had nothing to fear.  
The man who stood in front of him was older than him. It should have only been 8 years, but he seemed like he was 80. If it weren't for the burns that covered half of his body, he would have been the spitting image of the Mr. Morpheys who had taken him. Bickslow knew he couldn't be him though, he had killed him. This one was his son, Randall, a boy that had once made Bickslow's childhood hell.  
"Hello, _freak_ " he spat. "Have you come back to the place where you belong?"  
Bickslow was frozen as memories of his past replayed in his mind, paralysing him.  
The man stepped forward and the Seith mage's breath hitched. If only he had wanted to, he could have made him blow up. But something was blocking him.  
"You" continued Randall, digust laced with his tone. "Where have you been all this time, huh?!"  
He kept menacingly walking towards Bickslow. He had no weapons on him, but the Seith mage was pretty sure he was willing to use his fists if he had to.  
"You destroyed us. You abandoned us and destroyed all we had, you goddamn ungrateful shit!"  
Bickslow flinched at the raised tone.  
"All we gave you, you spit on it! You turned it to ash! Literally!"  
The Seith mage averted his gaze. He really wanted to do something, at least say something. He had so much to say, so much resentment and hatred bottled up for years. But it seemed like his tongue had turned to lead.  
The burnt man grabbed his chin and forced him to stare at him. "Look at me!" he shouted. "Look at what you turned me into! A goddamn freak! That's what I am now! You lowered me to your level, you were jealous that I was better than you!"  
A tear escaped Bickslow's eyes. He was shaking.  
Randall was now aiming a fist at his face and he was about to take it without putting up a fight, as if he deserved it, but a hand caught it right before it collided with his jaw, catching both his and the other man's attention.  
"Freed…" he breathed out in surprise.  
"Sorry, I am late" said the Rune mage with a sad smile. "But now I'm here and we're going to tear this place down, starting from this bastard here". His tone took an edge of rage towards the end of the sentence as he looked at the man who had been about to hurt his boyfriend and had done that so many times in the past.  
Freed knew nothing about Bickslow's past, not until the babies had informed him. After releasing the children at the guild, the totems had flown straight to Freed's, telling him what their master was doing and his reasons.  
The Rune mage didn't waste any more time into turning into his demon form to annihilate who and what had caused so much pain to the man he loved.  
Bickslow watched with the same morbid fascination of his audience as Freed's claws dug into his sworn enemy's flesh, tearing it away, peace by peace, as blood-curdling screams filled the air, sending shivers down his spine. He wanted to tell Freed to stop, not to dirty his hands for him, that he wasn't like that. But that show gave him an odd sense of satisfaction and he wasn't ready to give it up. He watched the life abandon that body. He saw the blood, gushing from the gashes, stain the ground, forming a crimson puddle. He saw his soul abandon his body and get sucked down into hell.  
Only then he stopped Freed's furious assault.  
Together they finished the job the Seith mage had started and they observed from up high as the tents and all the people who had hurt Bickslow turned to ash.  
"It's all over now" whispered Freed, draping a comforting arm around his shoulders.  
Bickslow snuggled into the warm embrace, but he still wore an emotionless mask. "Yes, it is"  
Revenge was finally taken.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry there isn't much lovers' interaction, but Bickslow compelled me to write his past, so...:P I didn't know how much I loved him until now


End file.
